


Off The Map

by purrplekat1989



Category: 30 Seconds to Mars
Genre: F/M, Implied Violence, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-19 10:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1465435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purrplekat1989/pseuds/purrplekat1989
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shannon never saw the use of bodygaurds. What kind of danger would come after a band? They had more security than they knew what to do with at concerts. This seemed like a little much. This all changed when he's found beaten, bloody, and and left for dead with a message carved into his chest.</p><p>But suddenly he finds himself in a case of wrong place, wrong time so epic that he has to fake his death in order to escape. One thing remained for "Demsond" however... The blonde bodygaurd, at the center of all his problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fueledbycoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fueledbycoffee/gifts).



> Written for my lovely friend Olivia. I really hope I didn't butcher Jean too much. <3

****

**"The past may dictate who we are, but we get to determine what we become.”**

**\- Stephen Spielberg**

“ _ **Target acquired.”**_ _The com link hissed as pale eyes focused through the lenses of the binoculars at a group of people moving about below. A small group of security officials milled around, keeping the crowd of onlookers from getting in the way as techs and musicians went through the motions of sound check before the concert that was scheduled for later that night._ _ **“I will be sure to make our message clear.”**_

 

August 9th, a Saturday at 5:40 pm. The sun still hanging high in the sky over the Matt Knight arena. Eugene Oregon held three colleges and a university within the city limits. It made for a rather good place to stop on the last leg of the band's tour as they made their way down the Pacific Northwest. On their way home to LA from a very long tour around the world. It had been a beautiful day so far and soon the sun would start to disappear behind the horizon. The fans had already started to queue around the building despite the fact that the concert wasn't scheduled to start for another three hours yet. Only the few VIP tickets that had been sold to allow entry to the sound check had been let in to the venue.

_ 'Why would anyone choose this as a career?' _ Jean wondered; pulling a few stray strands of blonde hair back out of her clear, almond shaped blue eyes, and into the tight bun at the base of her skull. Thousands of screaming fans would all be packed into one small space, so many faces caught in the flashing lights. So many variables, so many things that could potentially go wrong. She stood at attention. Hands clasped behind her back as she watched the three men that she had been charged with protecting. She wore a simple black tank top over a thin Kevlar vest, above black pants tailored close to her legs for ease of movement, and black tennis shoes. Nike's ironically enough. A Colt Mark IV, .45 automatic resting comfortably in her small of the back holster.

There was a short burst of static from her ear piece, the cord curling down the back of her neck. She acknowledged the message, and headed over to her employers. “Gentlemen,” she said, addressing the trio. “Irving would like to speak with you before the concert. If you could please return to the bus now.”

The whole thing was a little idiotic in Shannon's opinion. Mars had been touring for years now, and suddenly -for no apparent reason that he could see- the label had demanded that a bodyguard be hired for them.  _ Just in case. _ It was like Jared was always insisting, the Echelon were family. What did they have to worry about?  _ 'Well everybody needs a job.' _ he thought, passing her to head back to the bus as requested, keeping an air of polite disinterest toward her. 

It didn't matter anyway, the show would start before too long and everything else would fall away.

Jean's eyes followed the drummer as the group passed her, not bothering to even spare her a glance as he did so. She knew he didn't feel her presence was a needed one, and she really didn't care. It wasn't her job for them to like her. It was her job to make sure that they were protected, and it was one that she took very seriously.

 

The crowd's excitement was almost a living thing as the band took the stage. It had been less than a minute into the first song, and they could already tell that this was going to be the best concert of the tour so far. Thirty Seconds to Mars had the best fans in the world. That's all there was to it.

Jared started out with an “I want to hear you fuckers scream!” and the crowd responded in kind, jumping in time with Jared and screaming as he held the microphone out to them. Excited yells and jumping causing a wave to run through the mosh pit.

 

“ _I've been up in the air_

_Out of my head_

_Stuck in a moment of emotion I've destroyed!_

_Is this the end I feel?”_

 

Far too loud Jean thought as she stood side-stage, marveling at how these three could work the crowd. Their skinny front-man, Jared, had a voice that could make gods cry and an energy that was infectious. It made for an amazing show.

 

“ _A thousand times I've tempted fate_

_A thousand times I've played this game_

_A thousand times that I have said_

_Today today today.”_

 

She scanned the crowd, taking in its seething energy with critical eyes. Something was bothering her. Something was off and she couldn't put her finger on it. She had learned to trust her instincts over the years, and they were screaming that something was wrong.

That's when the first explosion happened. Far too large to just be blamed on faulty wiring. A lighting rig fell from the scaffolding, sending the musicians and fans scattering in every direction. There was utter chaos in seconds. People running, a fire burned somewhere.

Shannon let out a startled “Fuck!” at the first explosion. The second was close enough to knock the drum kit askew, sending him falling off the seat and scrambling away from it instinctively.

Hands pulled him up, away from yet another explosion, leading him away from the chaos on the stage. Out into the relative safety of the back street where the buses were parked. He looked back at the arena, dark tendrils of smoke already beginning to curl from it. Emergency services sirens could already be heard. On their way to deal with the panic and fire. “I have to fi-” the hands were back on him now, pressing something against his face. He struggled to push them off, even as his vision started to go black.

 

Smoke burned her lungs as instinct took over, pushing the bubble of panic down. She leapt to her feet, looking for her employers. ' _ They're more important. Find them, find them fast.' _

She led the singer quickly from the building, coughing on smoke, noting that the other security people had gotten the guitarist. The youngest of the trio had been incapacitated by the explosion, but she knew that the EMT's would be there soon and he would be alright.

But the drummer was gone... Shannon was missing.

 


	2. Chapter 2

 “ **To know what a person has done, and to know who a person is, are very different things.”**

**\- Hannah Kent, Burial Rites**

Shannon woke to a harsh slap across the face, the only thing that kept him from falling to the floor were the restraints that bound him to a chair. The sound echoed through the room. His mind was still foggy from the drug that had been used on him as he looked around. “Th'fuck? Where...?” he squinted as a light was shined in his face, obscuring his ability to see the person in front of him. “Who the hell are you?”

There was another slap. “Ye will speak when spoken to.” a voice said, tinged with a bit of an Irish accent.

“I'll speak...” he said, spitting blood from a now split lip at the man in front of him, trying to make out any distinguishing features. “When I want to. Who _the fuck_ are you?” he demanded, channeling how scared he actually was into anger. Twisting his wrists uselessly against the binds. “Let me go.”

“I'm afraid I can' do that Mr. Leto.” the voice said, “You're here because I need to make a point.”

“Dude, I don't know what you think you're going to get from this, but I doubt it'll be what you want.” Shannon was beginning to grasp the magnitude of the situation he was in. This was like something out of a crazy James Bond movie or something.

“I don' think you understand. I've already gotten what I want.” Another light was turned on, causing him to squint more and turn his face away. “I want the attention of that bodyguard bitch of yours.”

“What a call wouldn't cut it?” he asked sarcastically. “She's pretty good about answering her phone.” he looked over his shoulder for an exit, but wasn't able to find anything because of the spots left from the lights.

He let out a soft laugh, stepping closer to grip Shannon's chin with a black gloved hand. Close enough now to reveal hard green eyes and a predatory smile. “No. No, that wouldn' have cut it a'tall. I'm going t'make an example of ye Mr. Leto.”

“Don't touch me.” Shannon demanded, jerking his head away.

He stepped away, completely obscured by the lights now, “Ye should consider yourself lucky.” the voice was moving now. He seemed to be circling the drummer, as if sizing him up. “I don't intend to kill ye.” A blindfold was secured over his eyes even as he continued to struggle.

Then there was a darkly amused whisper against his ear. “At least no' right away.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace.**

**\- Oscar Wilde**

Everything hurt. There was pain in places that he hadn't even been aware could be in pain. He was slumped forward in his seat, barely conscious, blood obscuring his vision a little as it ran down his face from a cut on his temple. Dripping off the curve of his lip from a bloody nose as well. Every breath felt like knives, pretty certain that he had a couple broken ribs. _'I need to get back to Jared. He's got to be freaking out.'_ he gave a soft groan of pain when his head was lifted with a hand on his chin.

“Still awake Shannon? I must say, I'm impressed.” He ripped Shannon's teeshirt open to reveal his chest, already beginning to color from bruising.

“Wha-” his question was cut off as a blade was dug into his chest, making him scream and struggle in an attempt to escape. “Stop! No more!” the desperate pleas fell on deaf ears. Words were being carved into his chest, blood flowing freely from the wounds. “Please!”

“Hush now.” The voice sounded almost amused, as if speaking to a toddler throwing a tantrum. Another punch to the solar plexus knocked the wind out of him, finally pushing him over the amount that he could handle, sending him toppling into unconsciousness.

 

There was a small noise as Jean's phone went off, causing her to stop her pacing. An alert that she'd gotten a message of some kind, followed quickly by another. She pulled the device from her pocket, to check the messages. They had come from the drummer's phone. “What...?” The first was a string of numbers. Her heart sank as she realized that it was coordinates.

“Fuck.”

She looked at the second, a picture file, apprehensively. There was no way that it could contain anything good. She opened it, seeing Shannon's bloody form bound to a chair and slumped over. Obviously unconscious. 'YOU'RE NEXT BITCH' carved into his chest. The attached message read 'better hurry, right now he's still alive.'

 

Jean followed the coordinates exactly, leading her to a ditch to the west of the city. She found the drummer, half submerged in murky water from the nearby reservoir. “Jesus Christ...” she swore, sliding on the grass as she pulled him from the water. “Shannon... Shannon please be alive. Please...”

Consciousness had fled, a small blessing really. The drummer was beginning to truly struggle to breathe. Each breath making a worrying crackling sound. The wounds on his chest were barely beginning to scab over, not responding when he was moved. His eyes were half open, but nothing seemed to be registering.

She continued to swear under her breath, moving through various languages as she folded her jacket up to keep his head elevated. Pulling out her phone, she called the number of an associate. A doctor that owed her a couple favors, and would be anywhere she needed him to be. “Gordon? I've got an emergency. I'm at the Fern Ridge reservoir. I need you here now if not sooner.” she closed her phone, turning her attention back to the drummer. “Shannon? Please hang in there.”


	4. Chapter 4

 “ **People may not tell you how they feel about you, but they always show you. Pay attention.”**

**\- Unknown**

Shannon didn't remember much, just a few blurs. But when he next blinked awake it was to an overwhelming wall of pain and an unfamiliar ceiling. “... Jay?” the sound that left his lips was little more than a breath. Where was Jared? Was he okay? He tried to sit up to find his brother, only to fall back against whatever he was laying on with a groan. Head spinning.

There was a soft hand on Shannon's shoulder, pushing him back to the bed. “I wouldn't try t'move to much if I were you kid.” A man said with a soft southern drawl. He was tall, his silver hair pushed back off his face by a pair of thin half moon wire-rimmed glasses. Tired, honey brown eyes looked down at Shannon for a moment before he turned his attention to the I.V. In his arm.

“I hope you like morphine. You're gonna be gettin' quite a lot of it over the next few days.” His voice was just as tired as his eyes. “Three broken ribs and two more fractured, multiple lacerations, 37 stitches, a broken wrist, little bit of internal bleeding, and every inch of you's black n'blue.” He sighed softly, almost sounding like he was reading a shopping list, as he flicked his glasses down to get a better look at his patient. He gave a half smile.

“You're lucky to be alive.”

Shannon let out a soft whine as he settled back against the mattress without a fight. “... where's Jared?” he wasn't sure where he was and he didn't really care, as long as he knew his brother was ok.

“Not dead.” Jean said simply, walking into the room, butterfly bandages holding a cut above her eye closed from where she'd been hit by flying debris. “You on the other hand, have flat lined three times so far that I'm aware of. You lost way more blood than you should have.”

Shannon's eyes narrowed when she came into the room. He didn't say anything to her, but his eyes never left her either. Obvious distrust was written across his features.

Jean looked back at him with mild annoyance. “Do you have something to say, or are you just now expressing how you feel about me?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest with a sigh.

“...They did this...” he paused, almost having to catch his breath from the small exertion. “...because of you.”

 _'Give me one good reason to trust you.'_ his eyes said.

 _'Because I could have easily killed you where you lay and put you out of your misery.'_ was her silent reply, but all she said was a stiff “I know.”

Gordon looked between the pair, aware of the sudden tension that had taken over the room. “I'll leave you two at it then.” he said, heading out of the room. “I need to get some more antibiotics.”

Shannon was suddenly anxious. He wanted to keep his eyes on Jean, who he now perceived slightly as a threat, but he also wanted to get Gordon to stay in the room as well. Too late now. He turned his attention fully back to the blonde, channeling what he was feeling into irritation.

“How do you feel?” she asked, breaking the silence after almost a minute. She knew it was probably a stupid question, but a stupid question that needed to be asked nonetheless.

The scathing look that he gave her could have probably melted plastic. “Like I got hit by a truck.”

“The morphine will kick in before too long.” she informed him with a small nod, taking up vigilance in a small couch in the corner. “We'll need to talk soon, but Gordon'll take care of you for a while, while I take care of a few things.”

He laid his head back against the pillows behind him, continuing to warily watch her even as he felt the painkillers kick in.

Seeing that he was beginning to drift away again, Jean stood. Walking past him and resting a hand on his shoulder for a few seconds as she headed out of the room. “Sleep. You need it, Gordon will be here when you wake up.”

He made a soft _mmm_ sound, flinching very slightly at the touch, eyes already half closed.

Jean let him drift off to sleep, nodding to Gordon as she left the room. “I have to follow up on a few things. I'll be back later.”


	5. Chapter 5

 “ **This place is a dream. Only a sleeper considers it real. Then death comes like dawn, and you wake up laughing at what you thought was your grief.”**

**\- Rumi**

It was almost a week before Shannon could stand being awake without being completely stoned out of his mind on painkillers. Jean had used the time tying up loose ends.

Coming into the room with a cup of coffee, she set it down on the bedside table. Turning her attention to the sleeping drummer, taking in how bruised he was. The majority of his skin was colored in shades of blacks, blues, reds, and yellows, and his wrist encased in fiberglass. She sighed softly, feeling bad for having to wake him up. Prodding his arm gently, calling his name to wake him up slowly.

Shannon did not like waking up on the best of days... Today was certainly not the best of days. He made a soft, unhappy noise at the poke, turning his head away because any more movement than that was painful.

“Shannon please... we need to talk.” Jean said softly, prodding him again. “I brought you some coffee.”

“Go away.” he mumbled, running the fingers of his good hand through his bangs.

“I'm not leaving until we talk, so wake up or I'm going to pour the coffee in your lap.” she said, beginning to sound slightly irritated.

He rubbed his eyes with an “Ugh, fuck off.” He was awake now, weather he liked it or not.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty.” she said flatly, pointing to the cup as she took a seat in a nearby chair.

He pushed himself up into a more upright position, accepting the coffee even as he debated ignoring her. He had started to resent her existence a little, feeling like his brush with death had been her fault in a way.

“We need to talk.” she said, making a face as she inadvertently put strain on one of the injuries that she'd sustained during the bombing. “You're not going to agree with most of what I have to say, but for now I really don't give a shit. It's for your own safety that I'm doing this. My top priority is keeping you alive and well. It has been since I was assigned to the band, and it still holds true now. Even more so now, with the change in situation.” She paused, taking a breath and looking at his reaction. “I've assigned someone else to protect your brother and Tomo while I take care of the matter at hand. So know they're safe.”

Shannon's eyes narrowed as she spoke. She was right, he didn't like what he was hearing so far. “What's your point?” he finally asked after a few seconds of tense silence.

“You're dead.” she said bluntly, handing him a copy of the newspaper.

The front page headline read “EIGHT DEAD IN ARENA BOMBING” he scanned the article quickly, reading the list of names and seeing his own among them. He winced a little. “That's nothing that can't be cleared up with a phone call though...” he was distracted as he finished reading.

“There aren't going to be any phone calls.” she said simply, taking a sip of her own coffee.

“What the fuck? Why?” He looked up sharply, “Jay's got to be freaking out.”

Jean shook her head a little. “He had to identify your body. Badly burned. Only able to tell because of a few very distinctive tattoos.” she said calmly. “The less he knows the better.”

“And letting him think I'm dead is going to help anyone how?”

“It'll keep him from doing something stupid like trying to find you, and potentially giving up our location. So just listen to me for now.”

He growled softly, turning away from her. It's not like he could do anything besides argue with her at the moment. Not with the state he was in. There was no way in hell he was going to let Jared think he was dead. Not a chance.

“We're going to leave tomorrow. The person who did this to you is not someone you want to mess with, and once he finds out that you survived he'll come after us. He's not the type of person that leaves any loose ends.”

She tossed a thick envelope on his lap. “I took the liberty of giving you a new identity. Think of it as going into witness protection if you want.” Inside the package was everything he'd need for a new identity. Passport, birth certificate, drivers license, a credit card.

“How the fuck did you even get all this shit?” he asked, looking at her like she'd suddenly sprouted a second head.

She gave him an almost insulted look. “You assumed I was just another security type didn't you? Do you honestly think that someone in my profession wouldn't know how to make someone disappear? Please.”

“'Your profession'?” he repeated with a tone of disbelief. “You make it sound like your a ninja or some stupid shit like that.”

“Do I look Japanese to you? I guess it's close enough though.” she said with a soft chuckle. “I prefer soldier of fortune.”

“You're insane.” he informed her. “I'm not bailing on Jared. Especially not with someone who wants to play spies. Give me my phone now. I'm done with this insanity.”

She shrugged. “Can't. I don't have it.”

“Well then let me use yours.”

Another shrug. “Why don't you come over here and take it from me?” she challenged, standing and heading for the door. She knew that if he were to try and get out of the bed right now that it was extremely likely that he'd collapse.

“Hey!” he pushed the covers off his legs, sitting up with a sharp hiss of pain. The famous Leto stubbornness pushing him to his feet, leaning heavily on the bedside table with one hand, and the I.V. pole with the other. “Get back here.”

She rolled her eyes, listening to him collapse to the floor when his legs refused to hold him. “Get back in bed.” she ordered, looking down at the drummer as he sat on the floor. “Learn your new identity. Once I've dealt with the problem at hand, then you'll be able to call Jared and let him know you're still alive.” she pulled him up, settling him back in the bed. “But not before then.”


	6. Chapter 6

 “ **There’ll be days like this. There'll be days like this, my momma said, when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises.”**

**\- Sarah Kay**

Shannon leaned against the headboard, watching as Jean left the room, feeling almost as if he were a prisoner of some kind. What kind of crazy shit had he gotten pulled into that required them to fake his death? He picked up the envelope that had almost been forgotten when he'd tried to get out of the bed, and started to rifle through it.

He flipped open the passport first. The name inside was Desmond Ryan. His birthday apparently was the date of the bombing. August 9th. “You think you're hilarious.” he muttered, turning it over in his hands. It felt real but he didn't actually have any way of judging its validity. It wasn't new, that much was certain. It looked just as worn in as his real passport.

The drivers license was the same. He ran his fingers over it, the edges slightly dented from his habit of chewing on the corner when he was thinking. Her attention to detail was amazing. The pictures were exact copies of the ones that were on his real identification, though the address that was claiming to be his home was one that he'd never heard of, some arbitrary street address in LA. How had she even gotten those? Among the various objects in the package -none of which contained any form of communication- was a small metal bracelet. He pulled it out, turning it over in his hands. A medical alert bracelet, saying that he was allergic to penicillin. This was a lie. He turned it over again, wondering if it did something else. The whole situation was getting weirder and weirder.

He looked up when the door opened again. Gordon gave him a small smile as he came into the room. “Good to see you awake, kid. How you feelin'?”

“Less like I'm gonna pass out every time I move at least.” he said, then he held up the bracelet. “What the hell is going on?”

The older man just shook his head. “I don't ask questions.” he said, checking the levels of the medicine in Shannon's I.V. “One thing I can tell you though. I've never seen Jean this freaked out before. You'd do well to go along with what she tells you. She'll keep you alive.”

Shannon shook his head in disbelief. “I don't even know what's going on.”

“Seems to me like you got caught in a horrible case of wrong place wrong time.” Gordon said, giving a shrug. He sounded like this was something that he'd had to say more often than he liked to admit. “She doesn't know who she's up against at the moment so she's covering all of her bases. Person in Jean's line of work makes a lot of enemies, or they die. That's the long and short of it.”

“This shit doesn't happen in real life.” Shannon muttered, setting the new identification on the side table in a messy pile, laying down more fully. It still hurt to even breathe.

“Get some rest, you're going on a long trip.” Gordon said, “You'll need all the energy you can get, I can assure you of that.”


	7. Chapter 7

“ **I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am.”**

**\- Sylvia Plath**

“Get up.” the order was accompanied by a none too gentle poke. Jean had settled a wheelchair beside the drummer's bed. “We're on a time frame now. Get your ass up.” 

Shannon groaned, doing as he was told simply because it was easier than trying to get a straight answer out of her. His eyes screwed closed as he moved from the bed to the chair, fire running through his torso as the movement put strain on his broken ribs. He wrapped his arms around his chest protectively as she pushed him out to an unremarkable blue Toyota. After he was settled in the passenger seat, the wheelchair was returned to Gordon's house. The sun hadn't even begun to rise as she slipped behind the wheel.

“Where are we even going?” he asked, his voice still rough from sleep. He was watching streetlights as they made their way through the city.

Her response was a curt “East,” as she turned the car on to the highway. “Go back to sleep Desmond. We've got a long trip ahead of us, and I don't really feel like listening to you bitch right now.”

Shannon's eyes narrowed at the use of the new name. He'd already fought with her about it, but it was obviously something he wasn't going to win. She'd refused to acknowledge any of his protests in regards to it. He gave her a stiff “That's not my name.” before turning his attention away again, resting his forehead against the window and quickly falling back to sleep.

 

Jean let out a soft sigh when she heard Shannon drop back to sleep. She really hated having to do all this to him, but it was for his own good. She just hoped that he'd realize that sooner rather than later, because otherwise this could quickly go all to hell.

Shannon had said that his captor had, had an Irish accent when she'd grilled him for information. But he couldn't describe any more than that because he hadn't been able to see him. It wasn't much to go on, but it gave her an idea of where to focus her concentration.

One thing was certain though: they couldn't stay here. It was too risky. Too many loose ends that couldn't be neatly tied closed. Her plan was to head east until they got to one of her safe houses. From there she could decide their next move. With any luck they would be well out of the cities by the time Shannon woke up again, her hope being that seeing the endless expanses of fields would stop him from his continual asking to get in touch with his brother.

 

Shannon woke a few hours later when the car pulled to a stop at a 24 hour roadside diner. He was achy with a crick in his neck from the strange position he'd been sleeping in, a small red mark on his forehead from where he'd been leaning against the window. “Where are we?” he asked, looking around.

“Not totally sure. Somewhere near the border of Oregon and Idaho.” Jean said with a shrug. “Figured it was time for some breakfast and coffee.”

Shannon nodded curtly. He moved to open the door, screwing his eyes closed in pain for a few seconds before getting out of the car. Leaning against the door before he followed. He could feel her eyes on him as she followed him inside.

He'd recovered enough that walking wasn't a problem anymore. He just had to be careful of moving too fast, as it would send a bolt of pain through his torso intense enough to leave him breathless. He pulled the hood of his favorite jacket up, shading his eyes.

They were greeted by a stout, overly friendly woman that had her salt-and-pepper hair pulled back out of her eyes in a loose ponytail. “Just the two of you?” she asked, leading them to a corner booth and taking their drink orders.

Jean herded Shannon into the far seat with his back to the wall. She pulled a chair from a nearby table and settled it with her back turned slightly toward the wall as well so that she would be able to watch the patrons and employees discreetly. She set a prescription bottle on the table in front of him. “Here. From Gordon. Try to conserve them, it's difficult to refill a prescription when you're on the road.”

He gave her a small nod, pocketing the bottle for now, he would take one when they got back on the road again. There seemed to be endless miles of fuckall nothing in every direction. “Where are we going?” he finally asked after a few minutes of silence. When he realized he'd been staring at the same paragraph on the menu he was looking at without registering any of it, he gave up. Setting it back on the table and looking at Jean with an expectant expression.

“I'm heading toward a safe house.” she said, falling silent as the waitress bustled over to their table with their coffees to take their orders before bustling away again. That really was the only way to describe the way the woman moved. 

Shannon nodded, looking out the window at the slowly rising sun that was just beginning to break over the horizon, coloring the sky with streaks of pink and purple. He wondered what Jared was doing, knowing that there wasn't a chance in hell that his brother was asleep right now. It was likely that he had been pushing himself harder than usual since Shannon's 'death'. _ I'll get a message to him somehow.  _ He thought, keeping his face turned away lest Jean somehow suddenly become psychic and read his thoughts in his eyes.

Jean's attention however was trained more on the patrons. A ragtag mix of truckers that had stopped in on their way to their next destination. One talking animatedly to the waitress about a football game that he'd been listening to on the radio, another taking a position similar to Shannon's and sulkily looking out the window at the steadily lightening sunrise. The couple with a sleeping infant that obviously belonged to the single Uhaul truck parked out front, moving to something better than they'd had before. None of the patrons seemed to be an immediate threat though, so she allowed herself to relax marginally.

“I still want to call Jared.” Shannon said without warning, poking at his breakfast with an air of disinterest.

“You can't right now.” Jean said, shaking her head and putting a hand up to stop him before he could protest. “And I don't just mean because it would blow our cover. There's no cell service out here.”

The drummer stuck his fork in his mouth, going back to sulking. He didn't want her to be right, but he had to grudgingly admit that -at least on that topic- she was.

“We should reach the safe house by about five or so.” Jean was saying as he turned his attention back to her. “Then I can check to make sure the stitches are okay. Change bandages and such, and then I'll see what I can do about getting you safe enough so that you can get in contact with your brother.” She felt a stab of guilt at the sudden lightening of his expression. “Don't get your hopes up too much though Desmond. It'll probably still be a few days before anything substantial happens on that front.”

His face closed off again, scowling a little in distaste at the name. “Don't call me that.” he demanded softly, once again turning his attention away, refusing to acknowledge her any further.

 

Shannon had leaned the chair back, folding his hoodie up under his head to act as a pillow. He'd taken one of the Vicodin that he'd been given and was quickly falling back to sleep. He seemed to be recuperating from what he'd been put through. The wounds to his body were healing well and it wouldn't be too long before the bones were mended. Though his mind was another story.

Jean drove in relative silence, having flipped through the radio stations and only come up with static. The only sounds were those of the road beneath their car, and the small noises Shannon made as he slept. It was fitful at best, Gordon had told her that pretty much the only time that the drummer had gotten any real sleep was when he was under from the medication. Probably dreaming about what had happened, though he didn't talk about it.

Rain began to fall, the light taps on the windshield and the sound of the wipers seemed to lull him into a slightly more restful sleep, or at the very least a more quiet one, as he settled a little and ceased making the pained noises.

She sighed softly. Allowing the wave of guilt that she'd been stubbornly forcing back to finally wash over her. “I didn't want any of this for you.” she said softly, talking to the sleeping drummer as they made their way through no mans land. “You don't deserve to get pulled into my crazy shit, but yet here we are. So I'm doing the best that I can to make sure that you stay safe. I hope that you'll eventually be able to see that...”

 

Shannon jerked awake with a soft hiss of pain a few hours later, sitting the chair back up and looking around. Still vast expanses of unfamiliar nothing around them. “How long was I out?” he asked, voice raspy.

“Couple hours. You alright to keep going or do you need to stop?” She looked at him with veiled concern. 

“Should be okay for a while.” He didn't bother to offer to drive, and she didn't ask. They both knew that given the opportunity, he would turn them around and start heading in the general direction of LA. So why waste the effort on pretending to be polite about it?

Jean nodded a little. “It'll probably be another 8 or so hours until we reach the safe house.”

He was used to long drives, though when the band was traveling there wasn't a heavy uncomfortable silence in the air. Usually they'd be practicing, or teasing each other, or doing something to keep themselves entertained. An iPod would have been nice, or a book. But they had neither, so he settled for watching the droplets as they made their way across the window. Thinking about when he and Jared were kids, how they would make little races out of the drops whenever they were on the road.

 

She pulled off the highway a few hours later. They'd given Boise a wide berth, driving almost 50 miles out of the way to avoid the city, too many people there that could potentially recognize the drummer. The Toyota came to a stop in the parking lot of the town's one little strip mall. “So it looks like we're having Mexican.” she said as she got out, moving around the car to get her laptop out of the trunk of the car. She'd seen the 'free wifi' sign on the door and figured she'd take advantage of it to try and get some work done. “Put the hoodie back on.”

When they were seated she once again made sure he was sitting with his back to a wall, crowding him a little so he'd scoot all the way in and dropping into the booth next to him. Her fingers moved over the keyboard with impressive speed. Only stopping when the waiter came to get their drink orders and give them menus. “If you need anything let me know.” he'd said before turning away to go check on one of his other tables.

“There's a bookstore across the street.” Jean said, pointing. “I figure we can go look around and find something to occupy the time while we drive in there.” 

“Okay.” was his soft reply, fiddling with the little metal bracelet around his wrist. She'd put the medical alert bracelet on him before they'd even left. It wasn't bothering anything so he'd just ignored it, but now he'd started once again wondering if it was something more than just part of his cover story.

“And while you're doing that, I'll go over there.” she pointed out the window again toward a nearby electronics store. “Because I don't know about you, but driving in silence is making me a little stir crazy and I want an iPod.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**"We touch other peoples lives simply by existing."**

**\- J.K. Rowling**

_'Looks like she's not going to hover.'_ Shannon thought after they received their orders and had begun to eat.

It seemed like Jean was content to let Shannon wander the bookstore, though she obviously didn't trust him to be in the little Radio Shack with her. She'd deemed that there was too much temptation in there for him to try and discreetly get a message to his brother. Best to just let him do something that wouldn't get them both in trouble.

Jean poked at her food, dragged from her thoughts by the chime of her phone. A message in her inbox letting her know that she had a package waiting for her at the post office. She'd pretended that she'd never been through this town before when talking to Desmond earlier, when in fact she had made stops through here infrequently in the past. It made a good place to have things sent that she wanted to be sure that someone wouldn’t intercept. Turning her attention away from the slightly soggy enchilada in front of her to her purse, she pulled out some money for the bill and stood.

Shannon watched her and was about to protest when he remembered that she was _actually_ going to let him have some space to himself. If only for a little while. He abandoned his own half eaten lunch to follow her, coming up short when she stopped in front of the car.

“There’s a used book store over there.” she said, pointing across the street to a slightly run down looking building that held a small book store and coffee shop. That. Was one of the things that Shannon loved about the Northwest. Sometimes it felt like you couldn’t throw a stick in any direction without hitting a coffee shop.

“And I’ll be over there.” her hand moved in the direction of an equally run down Radio Shack that had a sign in the window advertising a closing sale that most likely had been there for years. “Don’t do anything stupid alright?” she asked rhetorically. “There’s an $800 limit on your credit card, but try not to get more books than you can carry? I’ll meet up with you when I’m finished with what I need to do.”

Shannon hated being talked to like that. He wasn’t a five year old, he was a perfectly capable adult thank you very much. A childishly obstinate part of him wanted to do the exact opposite of whatever he was being told to do when someone talked to him like that.

He gave her a sarcastic salute before making his way across the street, not bothering with the traffic control signals. In true form of someone that called LA their home. Though it’s not like it would have really mattered anyway. There wasn’t any cars coming from any direction as far as he was able to see. He pulled the wooden doors open, seeing her enter the electronics store out of the corner of his eye, and is greeted with the smell of old books.

Deciding on getting a coffee first before looking around, Shannon made his way toward the back of the store; following the sound of the espresso machine. Passing a couple people on his way, brushing against one with a quick apology. He was really out of practice, but he still easily pocketed the stolen cell phone. No one the wiser. ‘ _It’s okay since I’m not going to keep it.’_ He thought, knowing it was self-justification at its finest. ‘ _One text isn’t going to hurt anything.’_

Turning down the next row of books and coming to a stop at the end of the aisle, Shannon flipped through the various apps. _‘What kind of person didn’t keep a lock screen on their phone? That’s just asking for something to happen.’_ He shrugged. _‘Better for me.'_ He finally found the text messaging and pulled up a blank message. Plugging his brother’s number in to the recipient’s address bar, he began to type.

 **[** Don’t reply. Stolen phone. I’m not dead. Don't know where I’m being taken. Heading east with Blondie. **]** Jared would know who it was from without having to say anything, he was sure.

After deleting any trace of the outgoing message, Shannon dropped the phone to the floor. That way the owner would just think that they’d dropped it. He continued his trek toward the coffee bar.

 

Jean dropped her purchases in the backseat of the car, they would have to ditch it and get a new one before too long to help ensure that they weren't being tracked, before looking over at the book store. It was partially a test, letting Desmond go over there on his own. She could only hope that he hadn't done anything stupid in the twenty minutes it had taken her to finish her couple errands. But for some reason she felt like he probably had.

She was greeted by a friendly guy behind the counter as she entered the store, pointed toward the back when she'd asked where the coffee bar was. Desmond was easy to please and he really liked his coffee, when you combine that with the fact that the store wasn't terribly huge... he wouldn't be too hard to track down.

Shannon held the paper cup loosely in his good hand, scanning the titles of the books in front of him but not really paying attention. His ribs had started to ache again from all the movement he'd been doing, but he wasn't willing to take one of the pills just yet. He jumped slightly when he heard Jean's voice behind him.

“You find anything?” she asked as she came up beside him, looking at the books in front of him. “Didn't know you liked comic books.”

“Graphic novels.” he corrected, continuing to look at the titles idly. “Comic books are a lot more open ended and usually less than 50 pages per issue.” He'd read his share of comic books. More than his share if he was being truthful, not that he'd ever admit it though.

“Whatever. You find anything?” Jean had a hard time believing that he actually was thinking about getting any of the titles in front of him, figuring instead that he was just idly walking around to help alleviate some of the ache that had started to creep into his body language. That and the aisle of graphic novels was right next to the coffee bar, so its proximity probably factored into why he was standing there as well.

“Not really. Probably end up getting a copy of Fahrenheit 451 to read again.” he shrugged a little, taking a drink from his cup. “You get whatever you were looking for?”

She nodded, not looking at the books, favoring instead to assess the patrons that milled around nearby with critical eyes. There didn't seem to be any immediate threat, but constant vigilance was a good habit to practice when on the run from people who wanted to torture or kill you. “iPod, couple things that I didn't have time to pack, and I got you a DS. You looked just as bored as I felt before we stopped for lunch.” She finally turned her attention back to Desmond as she spoke. “Better pick something if you're getting anything, we need to head out pretty soon.”

He gave a noncommittal noise, turning away from her to turn down another aisle with the intention of picking out a few books that he'd been wanting to read but hadn't previously been able to find the time. He was content, for now at least, to go along with whatever Jean had planned. Though a small part of him was apprehensive, knowing that she would be pissed if she found out that he'd gotten a message to his brother. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

“ **I like the scars because I like the stories. Bravery, stupidity, pain - none of them come free.”**

**\- Jessica Martinez**

_Jared sat with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He was exhausted, but more than that was a tangible sense of relief. 'He's alive.' repeating in his head like a mantra. Over and over. 'He's alive... he's alive.'_

 

The sun was just beginning to set as the car pulled to a stop in front of a tiny cabin nestled into a copse of trees somewhere near the junction between Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming.

“We're here.” Jean said simply, killing the engine of the car and getting out. She didn't spare a look back at Desmond as she unlocked the door then went around the back to get the generator going. It would be a miserable night without air conditioning and lights. 

Shannon looked around from where he'd stopped in the front door. One large room that served as a living room, kitchen, and dining room. Off that were two doors, he assumed that lead to a bedroom and bathroom respectively. He'd grabbed the bag of his stuff out of the car and dropped it unceremoniously onto the couch as he went to the bathroom. He stared in the mirror for a few long moments before splashing some water on his face, in a half hearted attempt at washing his anxieties down the drain with the swirling water.

The generator came to life with a protesting growl, followed by the small air conditioner that was set up in the bedroom window. Shannon had taken a spot on the far end of the couch, finally taking the time to look through the contents of the bag that Jean had packed for him. Nothing too remarkable. Couple changes of clothes, bathroom stuff, a notebook and pen, then when he got to the bottom he found a small digital camera. A small smile quirked the corners of his mouth when he saw it.  _ 'She really pays attention to everything.'  _ he thought, settling it back into the bottom of the bag for the time being. 

Carrying in a cooler when she joined him, Jean kicked the door closed behind her. “I don't know about you, but I'm hungry.” She set it down on the counter with a heavy thunk, beginning to pull out things to eat. “I didn't get a whole lot because it's easier to just restock than it is to try and keep things cold in the car.”

Shannon joined her at the counter, looking at what there was to be had. His eyes widened slightly at the knife sitting on the edge of the counter but he didn't say anything, trying unsuccessfully to force himself to look away from it. Mentally shoving the barrage of unwelcome memories back down. It wasn't working very well though, he could feel himself unconsciously holding his breath, unable to make his feet obey him as he froze.

His reaction did not go unnoticed by Jean. “You're safe here. No one is going to hurt you.” she murmured, keeping her voice low and even. “I'm not going to let anything happen to you.” The words didn't matter though, it was all about the tone in her voice. As if she was talking to a frightened animal, keeping calm and slowly bringing him down from the edge of a panic attack. “Breathe, Desmond. You're alright.” She came around the counter, gently laying a hand on his arm “C'mon. You're alright. Just breathe.”

The touch on his arm seemed to snap him out of whatever freeze he was in, letting her guide him away from the kitchen area and back to the couch. She ran a hand through his bangs, causing him to look up at her with a look of defeat. “It's okay.” she said softly.

“I just want it all to be some huge nightmare and I'll wake up before too long.” he said, dropping his head into his hands. “But I know it's not and that's the worst part of the whole thing.”

She took his hands in hers, pressing a light kiss to his knuckles. “I am doing everything I can to make sure that you can put this behind you and go home.” she said. “For now, just remember that you're safe and it'll all be ok in the end. I'll make sure of that.”

Shannon nodded, he wasn't sure if he totally believed it, but it was something to hold on to when the whole world was falling down on him. He had that, and the knowledge that Jared knew he was alive.  _ 'Just stay safe Jay. I need that from you.' _

 


	10. Chapter 10

**"The truth is not for all men, but only for those who see it."**

**\- Ayn Rand**

“Desmond we-”

“Don't call me that.”

“-really need to do something with your hair.” Jean didn't acknowledge that she'd even heard his interruption. “I'm thinking maybe we should bleach it.”

“No.” he crossed his arms with a small wince.

She looked at him with a challenging expression. “I'd love to see you try and stop me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.”

It took all of her self control to not throttle him. “Desmond. We need to do something with it.”

He shook his head. “One, that's not my name. Two, no. We don't. We're in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“We aren't going to be staying in the middle of nowhere. We'll get to Chicago tomorrow night. There's a lot of people there and with the international outreach that your band has, a lot of people will be able to recognize you.” she explained with an air of exaggerated patience. “Also, get used to your new name. I'm not going to be calling you anything else.”

“And if I don't answer to it?” he demanded childishly. He would grudgingly admit that she was right, but that didn't mean that he wanted anything to do with it.

She clenched her jaw, taking a breath to push her annoyance down, and glared at him. “Then I guess I can call you something generic like 'boy'. Because you're acting like a five year old about this.”

He gave her a flat look. “You know what I want.”

“And you know I can't do it right now.” she shot back with a frown.

He scowled, he was getting pissed off just having this conversation.

Rubbing a hand over her face with a sigh Jean closed her eyes. “Honestly. Know that I'm doing everything that I can so that it's safe for both of you to have a conversation. I just haven't had enough time yet.”

“Yeah... I know.” he said, rubbing his eyes with a defeated sigh.

Jean looked at him for a few seconds before going and rummaging through one of the bags, pulling out a glasses case and offering it to him. “Here, put those on. I've noticed you haven't exactly been sleeping much. You shouldn't strain your eyes too much.”

He waved her off with an “I've got my contacts in.” It was true that he hadn't been sleeping much. It seemed like whenever he closed his eyes he was back in that room. It seemed like the only time he was able to get any semblance of sleep was when he took the painkillers. And even then it was restless.

The contacts would be fine for the short term, but it was his usual look. He rarely put his glasses on and this would be one step closer in her attempt to change his appearance. She continued to hold the case out to him insistently.

He rolled his eyes, relenting and taking the case from her. “I still think it's stupid.”

 

Shannon had fallen asleep on the couch, shifting restlessly and making the occasional small pained noise.

Jean was on a circuit around the small cabin, checking to make sure that all the doors and windows were secure before she settled down to sleep. She stopped behind the couch, watching him as she tried to decide if it would be better to wake him up or let him continue to sleep, though when he jerked awake she no longer had to make the decision. “You alright?” she asked.

"Ribs hurt." he said shortly, closing his eyes as he focused on trying to push the pain away. They were noticeably better than they had been, but the couch was probably not the best place for him to have fallen asleep.

She gave a thoughtful “Hm.” noise, turning toward the kitchen area where they'd stowed their bags for the night, pulling out the bottle of painkillers. Shaking one out, Jean got a small cup of water before going and offering both to him. “Here. These should help with that.” Her face was passive, though she had an underlying ultimatum in that he was noticeably more compliant when he was falling asleep.

He gave her a small half smile by way of a thank you, taking the pills and leaning back against the arm of the couch again.

It wasn't long before she could see the drugs start to take effect. She stood, walking over to him. “Des... Need to do something before you go to sleep again.” she said softly, keeping her words smooth.

He blinked up at her. "Hm?"

“I need to change your bandages and there isn't a shower here, so I figured I'd help you get in and out of the bath so it hurts the least.”

Making a slightly annoyed noise at having to get up from his spot on the couch he sighed. “Okay...” he said, swinging his legs off and getting up obediently enough. He gave her a little grin. “You're lucky I know you a bit or I'd think you just wanna see my junk.”

“Not gonna lie, it is a nice bonus.” she said with a straight face, which caused Shannon to laugh. It took about ten minutes, but she got him settled in the water, sitting on her knees next to the basin. “Lean forward.” she murmured, looking over the injuries. The stitches had been removed before they left, but they seemed to be holding together pretty well. The gashes on his chest bringing an uncomfortable silence between them. “Do you want me to help?” she finally asked, when he'd sat up more fully. The newly forming skin was tender and needed to be washed carefully lest the scabs break off and set the healing back.

He thought about it before nodding a little, propping his head up on one hand and closing his eyes.

She grinned, dumping a cup of water over his head. This was going even easier than she'd planned. Pulling a bottle of dye from where she'd stored it in the cabinet earlier, she started working it into his hair. It had to set in his hair for a few minutes, so she worked on carefully cleansing the wounds on his back before handing the wash cloth to him to deal with what he could reach. “Stay awake just a little while longer, we're almost done then you can go to bed.”

He took the cloth with a soft “mmm...” leaning into her touch a little when she began to wash the excess dye out of his hair. He liked it when people played with his hair. On a subconscious level, he knew that she was messing with him somehow, but he couldn't really bring himself to care too much at that moment.

She scrubbed his hair with a towel once the water was down the drain. “Alright. Here.” she dropped the towel in his lap before wrapping an arm around his back. “On three. One... Two... Three.” as she spoke she helped him to stand, helping to keep the pain in his ribs at a minimum.

He pulled on a pair of flannel pants as she grabbed the needed materials to redo his bandages.

“Sit down,” she said, pointing to the edge of the tub. “let's get the bandages back on so you can go to bed.”

His reply was to yawn, obediently moving his arms as directed while she retaped his ribs and secured the gauze over the cuts. “You messing with me?” he asked blearily.

“I'm not messing with you, just taking care of you.” she said softly, rubbing his hair with the towel a bit more to try and get it most of the way dry. “Let's get you to bed.”

He let her lead him to the bedroom, settling against the pillows that she set in a small pile behind him so that he was in a position that would cause the least amount of discomfort. “Where're you gonna sleep?” he asked softly, noting that she'd used all the pillows on the bed for his back.

“On the couch. Don't worry about it Des.” she said, brushing a few strands of the now auburn hair back off his forehead. “Go to sleep now. You need it.”

 

7:45 AM. Shannon sounded extremely irritated as he came out of the bathroom. “Goddamn it Jean.”

"Mm?" She responded, not looking up from her book.

"I fucking told you no."

"Well it's too late now isn't it?"

He closed his eyes, taking a breath to keep from yelling at her. "Do you have ANY sense of personal space?"

"No." She said, looking up at him with a half smirk. "I gotta say though. It is a rather nice color on you."

"You're fucking hilarious." he growled, heading into the kitchen to get coffee.

"Next we'll work on the tattoos." She said into the pages of her book, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Not a fucking chance."

"As I say once more. I would like to see you try and stop me."


	11. Chapter 11

**Violence gets romanticized and ritualized -- boxing, football, jousting knights, whatever. But the truth is it's ugly and nasty and comes down to survival by any means necessary.**

**\- F. Paul Wilson**

They had driven all day, only stopping when absolutely needed, finally stopping for the night when the lights of the city began to mar the darkening sky. A night in a room that made a roach motel look appealing left the pair tired and in a bad mood when they finally pulled into the city proper. Sunlight glinted off the windows of the towering buildings that surrounded them.

Jean pulled up to a curb in a crowded inner city neighborhood. “We're gonna be here a few days.” she said, leaning forward and pointing up at one of the apartments across the street. “It's a fifth floor walkup. You gonna be alright for that, Des?”

He gave an annoyed sigh. Nearly a week since she'd given him the new identity and there was no hint that she was going to give up on using the name any time soon, might as well get used to it. “I'll be fine. I think my ribs are mostly ok by now anyway.”

“Just don't push it too much.” she said with a nod, getting out of the car and grabbing her bag out of the back seat. She locked the door, but left the window cracked partially. A stupid move in a big city like this, it was asking for car thieves to take it. Which is exactly what she was doing, they'd had the Toyota for three days already and it was time to lose it. The easiest way to do that was to have thieves boost it. The only way to make it more appealing would be to leave the keys in the ignition. Car thieves were a predictable species and it would be gone in a day, two at most.

Shannon gave her a look, but didn't comment as he got his own bag out of the car and followed her to the building. Dull grey bricks along made up majority of the outside, patched in places with splotches of cement to fill in holes and weather damage that the owner of the building didn't seem to care enough about to shell out for a real fix. The inside was filled with dingy beige walls that weren't even wallpapered, just painted and repainted. All in all a typical older apartment building that would have fit in just fine in any of the lower rent neighborhoods in any city. The door to the apartment was painted a horrible shade of red that wouldn't have been out of place in a Chinese restaurant.

She flipped through the keys on her keychain. Six or seven generic looking keys that could open anything, a few that were obviously mailbox keys, the key to the car, and one tiny one on a small chain that looked to be more decorative than practical. When the door was pushed open a tiny slip of folded up paper fell out of the jam, she kicked it inside and pushed the door all the way open.

The inside of the apartment was a stark contrast to the outside of the building, it was well kept and mostly clean except for the fine layer of dust that had settled on the furniture. Evidence that the tenant hadn't been there in a while. Jean closed the door behind them as soon as Shannon had crossed the threshold, locking what Shannon thought was an excessive number of locks. A deadbolt and secondary internal deadbolt that had been installed above the handle to the door, the door handle itself, as well as both a chain and a sliding bar. “That seems like overkill.” he commented as he made his way into the small den.

“One can never be too secure.” she said with a shrug, leaning to pick up the paper that had fallen.

“What's that for anyway?” he asked, pointing to it.

“Lets me know if someone's broken in or not. It's not perfect, but a typical intruder wouldn't notice it. I still need to do a security sweep before we get set up though.” A typical intruder didn't mean shit in comparison to the people that they were up against, but she finally deemed that it was as secure as she was going to be able to make it and threw her bag on the couch next to Shannon. “We'll be here a few days I think. I've got a few contacts here that should be able to get a bead on who we're dealing with. I'd suggest staying in here until I can be sure that it's safe.”

“If you tell me that I can't leave the apartment the whole time we're in Chicago, just know I'll drive you _crazy.”_

“I'm aware. You'll note that I didn't say you couldn't leave the whole time we're here, just that it would be a good idea to not go out until I can be sure that it's safe.”

Shannon stood, pacing the length of the small living room while running his fingers through the auburn strands as he did so. “I refuse to be caged in just because it's not totally safe.” he stated, turning to look at her.

“I'm not caging you.” she said patiently. “I didn't even tell you not to leave right now if you don't want to. I just gave a suggestion. If you want to be a dumbass that's your priority, don't let me stop you. I'll just remind you that there's a knife wielding psychotic out there that's already kidnapped you once without a problem. But hey, you want to end up tied up in some basement somewhere or something then be my guest.” She knew she was being harsher than she probably should have been, but she was really getting tired of the drummers attitude. “Bedroom's through there.” she finally said, pointing to the door. “Go ahead and get yourself set up. We'll figure out where to go from here.”

 

_Jared paced his living room, he'd shown Tomo the text from the unknown number. They both agreed that it had to be from Shannon though neither of them had any idea how it was possible. He hadn't replied to it as per the instructions. If Shannon had to steal a phone to get a message to him it meant that he couldn't get to one in a normal way and he didn't want to somehow put him in danger by trying to get in touch with him. That didn't stop him from checking his Blackberry about every twenty minutes to see if another message had come in. An extremely slim chance, but a chance it would happen and he didn't want to miss it if it did happen._

 

Poking at the plate of chicken lo mein in front of him disinterestedly, Shannon watched the blonde as she paced a perimeter around the living room talking with whomever. She'd been at it for the majority of the day, alternating between hushed tones and irritated half-shouting. Finally she snapped the phone closed. “I'll be back in four hours.” she said, tossing a key at him, laughing when he fumbled to catch it due to how surprised he was that she was giving it to him. “I still don't think it's a good idea to leave, but like I said earlier, I'm not going to cage you in either. Do try not to get yourself killed won't you?” She gave him a teasing smile before grabbing her bag and heading out.

Shannon looked down at the key in his hand. Balanced lightly on the cast before he closed his fingers around it. There was no way he was going to just stay here. There wasn't even a TV and he knew he'd go stir crazy. Plus there was the camera in the bottom of his bag. That would give him something to do right?

 

He was sitting on the steps in front of the Natural History museum watching people and occasionally taking a photo or two when Jean sat down next to him, making him jump. “Jesus. Don't do that.” he growled, pushing his glasses up farther on the bridge of his nose. The blush that colored her cheeks at the movement went unnoticed in the cold wind that had started blowing. He pulled the hood of his jacket up in an attempt to keep as much of the wind out as possible.

“I don't know about you, but I think it's kind of a sin to come to Chicago and not get pizza.” she said, ignoring his comment and looking away at the bustling life that moved around them. “I want Gino's. What'd'ya say?” Standing, she offered him a hand. “C'mon, I'll show you the best ways to get back to the apartment while we're out.”

He gave her an appraising look before finally taking her hand and standing. “Alright sure. “

 

_'They're still together. Good.' It wasn't out of the realm of belief that the blonde would notice a tail, but the taller of the duo..._

 

Jean pointed out few alleys that would be good cover to get back to the apartment should something happen. She loved this city and though she would have to be forced to do so, she was enjoying walking with Desmond. He was actually pretty interesting when he wasn't being a petulant little shithead. They ordered a pizza, demolishing it between the two of them along with a pitcher of local craft beer.

“I'm surprised.” Shannon commented with a soft laugh as they left, heading back in the direction they'd come. “Didn't figure you for the type to be able to put that much away.”

“There's a lot you'll come to learn.” she said with a grin of her own. “I'm full of surprises.”

“Obviously.”

Their conversation was cut short with a sudden explosion of brick dust to Shannon's left, followed almost immediately by a loud crack that sent the passers by running for cover. Another shot rang out, this time hitting one of the frightened people trying to get away. A shower of blood exploded from his head as he slumped to his knees and then fully to the ground.

The crowd erupted into panic when the first sniper shot rung out. People suddenly were in every direction and she’d lost him. Three more shots pierced through the screams and the yelling that erupted from the panicking people that ran in ever direction. She ran with them, attempting to find the alley that she’d pointed out as they walked, a safe passage back to the apartment.

Instinct set in and Shannon ran.

Jean had lost him. She’d actually lost him.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she ran and took a sharp turn down the alley, alert for anything that might suggest that he’d been down this way and gotten to safety. Feet pounding the concrete as she ran through the zig zagging back alleys, skidding to a halt and pressing her back to a wall as three police cars sped past with sirens blaring.

She tried to ignore all the horrific things that could have happened to him as she opened the front door. Taking the stares four at a time up to the flat, she took a breath to center herself. One hand going into her pocket and palming the butterfly knife she always carried with her, she nearly kicked the door in to find him standing there, holding a poker fork and ready to defend himself.

Jean stared at him for almost ten seconds before taking three long steps forward, grabbing his face, and kissing him deeply, almost teary eyed with relief. Her fingers ran into his hair as she held him close for a long moment.

"I thought you died… I lost you… and, and I didn’t know what to do. It was chaos." She whispered against his lips. "I swear to god if you ever disappear like that again I’m gonna put a leash on you."

 


	12. Chapter 12

**“I wanted to destroy everything beautiful I’d never have.”**

**\- Chuck Palahniuk**

_"I thought you died… I lost you… and, and I didn’t know what to do. It was chaos." She whispered against his lips. "I swear to god if you ever disappear like that again I’m gonna put a leash on you."_

 

There was silence for a long moment before Shannon let out a quiet “Oh.” it seemed to break whatever spell the room had been under, sending Jean into a flurry of embarrassed motion as she checked him over. Anything to avoid his eyes.

“Were you hit?” she asked, circling the drummer now. Searching for blood that would have started to seep through the fabric of his shirt. When she didn't find any she continued past him. Pulling all the curtains closed and plunging the apartment into murky half darkness. “It's still a couple hours until sunset, we're going to leave the lights off and stay away from the windows. The couch pulls out into a bed, I don't want you to sleep in the bedroom in case the sniper was actually shooting at you instead of someone else. One can't be too careful in situations like this.”

Shannon sat down on the arm of the couch, watching his bodygaurd – watching Jean as she moved around the apartment. The pigheaded stubborn part of him wanted to dislike the faint lingering taste on his lips, but he just couldn't. His hand came up to lightly touch them before he finally spoke. “Jean. Calm down. It's okay.”

The words brought her up short, looking at him over the counter island that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment. “What?” There was no way that he'd said what she thought he'd said... was there? He had spent the last week and a half making it very clear that he didn't like her or her methods.

“It's okay.” Shannon repeated, looking at her. He offered a small half-smile, expression almost sheepish suddenly. “It's okay...”

'I can't think this about you.' There are rules. Etiquette for interactions between a client and one such as herself. She had to remain professional. She let out a sigh, schooling her face into passivity and nodded. “Let me check the bandages. I don't want to have to do more stitches because something broke open in all the chaos.”

It seemed like the closest that she was going to give as an acknowledgment of what he had said so he nodded, pulling his shirt over his head as she went and got supplies out of the bathroom. The cuts on his chest were beginning to scar over. That was good, it meant that the new skin wouldn't be in danger of coming apart. Though it did mean that Shannon would be left with a permanent physical reminder of what he'd gone through. She wished that there was some way that she could help with that, but the best that she could do was make sure that it stayed cared for so that it didn't get infected and set back his healing time. “You heal quickly.” she commented as she carefully pulled the tape from his ribs. “I don't even think you'll need new bandages at this point.”

He looked down at his chest, running his fingers over the healing wounds. The bruises were mostly gone, only very faint coloring left from the worst of them. It still ached, the overall feeling of damaged that had settled in the back of his mind wasn't one that would be going away any time soon though. “Awesome, then we can take the drugs for recreational use.” he joked with a halfhearted laugh, standing to pull the bed out from where it was stored in the couch. “If you want me to sleep on the couch, and you don't want the bedroom used... where are you gonna sleep?”

“On the floor.” she said, as if this should have been the most obvious thing in the world. “I do it a lot.”

He looked between her and the now pulled out bed before shrugging. “Okay then...”

 

Two days passed in what seemed like a blink of an eye as Jean tracked down information from her mysterious 'contacts'. The shooting seemed to be the only thing on the TV any time Shannon flipped it on in the hopes of getting some background noise. He'd come to agree with her on the need for him to hole up. She was way better at taking care of herself than he was so it would just be safer if he stayed in the flat.

“C’mere Des.”

He looked up from his book. “Hm?”

She held a small package loosely in one hand as she kicked her shoes off beside the door. “Got something for you.”

Setting his book on the table in front of him, he folded his legs underneath him and looked at her curiously.

"Ah… I went and got the pictures you took the other day developed. You wanna see em?" She asks putting on a small smile.

"Yeah. Did you look at ‘em yet?" He figured most of them would end up ‘vacation photo’ quality because mostly he’d been taking snapshots.

Jean shook her head, flopping down on to the couch next to him and handing the envelope over. "No, I wanted to leave them for you to look through."

He took it from her. Pulling the stack out and flipping through them idly, he handed them to Jean one at a time as he did. “Touristy snapshots.”

She gave a soft hum in response glancing at the photos with not much interest at first. Then something caught her eye. Her brows furrowed as she began to notice something reoccurring in the background.

Give me these." She said, taking them from his hands and kneeling to the coffee table. Grabbing one of the sharpies that always seemed to be laying around, she started to circle someone. The guy was in most of the pictures, which was odd as they were from an array of places in the nearby areas of the city. She set some aside, only keeping the ones with the lurker in them.

"Jesus Christ…" She breathed, running a hand through her hair. "He was right there the whole time."

Shannon’s voice was guarded when he finally spoke. “Do you know who he is?” The idea that he was being followed -so brazenly- and he hadn’t noticed made him uncomfortable. What else was he missing?

"Ethan Gage. He's… a human pitbull." She said scrubbing a hand over her face as she tried to find the best picture of him. “Once he's got his mind set on something he doesn't stop until it's completed.” She finally handed over one of the pictures. "Mother fucker if I had just seen him.” Jean growled, finally finding a picture and handing it to Desmond.

He looked down at the photo in his hand. The guy in question had a military style haircut and green eyes. He couldn't have been more than twenty yards from him when the picture was taken. He seemed to be looking straight at the camera, like he knew that he was in the picture and not caring if he was caught in it or not. Or even worse, wanting to be there.

“But why is he after me?” Shannon asked. “I've never even seen this guy before, let alone know what I did to piss him off so badly.”

“You're just a means to an end for him.” she said, standing and beginning to pace her circuit around the room. Something Shannon had come to recognize as her way of expressing stress. “That's the way he works. He doesn't just kill his targets, he wants to ruin their lives first. Watch them suffer.”

A memory flashed through Shannon's mind, _'I want the attention of that bodygaurd bitch of yours.'_ he looked up at her, realization dawning in his eyes. “You're the one he's after aren't you?”

There was a moment of tense silence before she finally gave a curt nod. “It's not a story I like to tell.”

 

_“Your target is Ryan Gage.” the orders had come down from on high. A don't tell don't ask assignment. They didn't tell anything more than what was needed to know about the target... and you did your job without asking questions. It was better for everybody that way._

_Jean took no pleasure in killing people. Not like some of her 'coworkers' anyway. Sure, she'd killed people before. Didn't even blink over it anymore. Just another day at the office. She took the file without comment, turning on her heel and leaving the room without another word exchanged. She had to prepare._

_The orders were to make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Gage was a 38 year old widower, his family had died in a car accident a few years ago and he'd become somewhat of a recluse. She wondered idly what he'd done that had brought such terrible attention down on him as she packed her go bag with only the essentials. He lived close enough to HQ that she wouldn't need to drive more than a few hours._

_It should have been a milk run assignment._

_Should have been. Had the sound of the single shot -just to the left of the center of his forehead- not drawn his 14 year old son Ethan from bed wondering what was going on._

 

Shannon listened with almost a sense of numbness. This couldn't be true. But at the same time it had to be, everything that had been going on the last few weeks backed up her theory. “So he wants revenge?”

“That's what it looks like.” Jean said, dropping to the couch and resting her head in her hands.

“And he won't stop until either he's dead or you are.” this time it was a statement. Shannon could understand what the guy was thinking on some level. If his mom had been killed like that, he was pretty sure he wouldn't rest until he had payback.

“Yes.”

Shannon was silent for a long moment. “He's playing with us. He has to know where this apartment is. I mean, how else could he have tailed me and placed himself in the background of so many of my pictures?”

Jean didn't like the sound of that, no matter how obviously true it was. She suddenly wondered why he hadn't just firebomed the apartment. Shot a grenade through the window from across the street or something.

“I don't think he knows which apartment we're in.” she said after a moment of thought. “Otherwise he probably would have blown us up and been done with it.”

“It's more than that. If it were me. I'd want my vengeance to be up close. I'd want the person who killed my mom to see my face as I killed them.” his voice had taken on a hard tone that she was unfamiliar with coming from him. A kind of steely determination coming over his features as he spoke. “We need to end this. Once and for all.”

 

The plan was disgustingly simple. Simple enough that Jean hated it. She hated it even more because Shannon had thought of it. Even more on top of that because he was blatantly putting himself in danger. Though she knew that the risk/reward ratio was really all Shannon was thinking about. Trade a great risk now, for the reward that he would be able to go home.

Ethan had tailed Shannon before, the chances were good he'd do it again if he was given the chance. A chance that they would give him. Shannon would lead him through the city, taking pictures like he wasn't aware that Ethan was toying with them both, to a storage warehouse that wasn't terribly far from where their apartment was. Once there, Jean would take him out.

Piece of cake.


	13. Chapter 13

“ **You don’t remember what happened. What you remember becomes what happened.”**

**\- John Green**

“ _Well isn't this serendipitous? It's almost like we've been here before.” A punch to the solar plexus had Shannon doubled over, gasping for air. “Oh wait... We have.”_

 

Three days of walking the streets of Chicago to sit on the steps of the natural history museum. Watching. Looking for any sign of Gage. There had to be something. Anything. That would give Shannon some kind of hint where to start with the hunt. He didn't want to just let Jean do all the work on this. Didn't want this to control his life anymore. He was tired of feeling like everything was balanced on its pivot point and a single breath could knock everything over off a never ending cliff.

He just wanted to go home.

Three days of people watching, taking photos and making a point to not look at the people in the background. It was starting to get late and Shannon was bored and starting to get hungry. “Guess it's time to head back. There's nothing going on here.” He muttered, knowing Jean could hear him. They both had wireless earpieces. A favor that she had called in from a local techie.

“ _Alright. I'll meet you back at the apartment.”_ her voice was a little staticy, but they had been told that, that was to be expected.

Stowing the camera in its case, Shannon stood with a sigh. It wasn't a terribly long walk. Three miles give or take, but he didn't feel like heading straight back. The sun would be setting soon. The Desmond Ryan persona would be enough to get a cab to the waterfront, get something to eat and watch the sun set. There were always cabs waiting near the museum, vultures waiting for a fare. He got into the backseat of the first one he came across with its on duty light on. “Know any good places to get a beer near the waterfront?”

“A couple, did you have something in mind or you from outta town and just want to find something different?” The cabbie was a friendly guy, black shaggy hair falling into his eyes as he looked into the mirror at his passenger.

“No preference, yeah I'm not from around here. You have a favorite place?”

“Sure do. It's not near the waterfront though, I tend to avoid tourists on my off time. No offense.”

“None taken. You wouldn't mind sharing it would you?” He asked, settling farther into the seat.

A slow smile came over the guys face. “Not 'tall. You'd be amazed how rarely tourists actually want to go to places that aren't on the guidebooks.”

“Always find the best places by asking the locals I've found.” Shannon said as the car pulled away from the curb. 

“So if you aren't from around here then where are you from...?” the end of the sentence was left open so that a name could be provided if it was so desired.

“Desmond. I live in LA, but I'm all over the place for work. Only end up being home for a few weeks of the year.” It was nice to have a conversation with someone other than Jean. It wasn't that he didn't like talking to her, but when you only talk to one person for weeks at a time it can get a little... repetitive after a certain point. 

“LA. Wow you're far from home. Can't say I've ever been that far west m'self.” the cab turned into a slightly more industrial part of the city, retail beginning to fade into warehouses and rows of apartment complexes that all looked the same. “What do you do? Wait. No. Let me guess. You're some kind of rockstar or something aren't you?”

“What makes you say that?” Shannon's voice took on a slightly guarded tone. He'd already been 'mistaken' by a couple echelon once today and it had set him on alert. 

The driver, whose emblem said his name was Keith Harrison, laughed. “Well I was gonna say spy originally, but then I figured that if that was true then this taxi ride would end up like a Bourne movie. At least with a rockstar I've got something to talk to my buddies about later.”

Shannon relaxed marginally. “No, not a rockstar. Sadly not a spy either. I just do consulting for various companies around the country. It's actually pretty boring, the travel's the only real perk of the job.” he looked at the surroundings. “Where is this place you're heading anyway?”

“We're almost there.” was the cryptic response, and it must have been true because the cab soon pulled up to a rather unobtrusive looking building. Shannon looked around, about to ask where they were when a needle was plunged into his leg and the world went black.

 

Shannon came to with a groan and a splitting headache. 

“Well isn't this serendipitous? It's almost like we've been here before.” A punch to the solar plexus had Shannon doubled over, gasping for air. “Oh wait... We have.”

Shannon took a deep breath before leveling Ethan with a defiant glare. “Well if it isn't the prodigal son.” he twisted his hands, testing out the knots. There was a little give, all he had to do was keep the other guy talking until Jean found them... This wasn't how the plan was supposed to go down, but it was too late now.

Another punch. This time to the kidneys. “You don't get to talk about that.” the words were a vicious hiss as he stood, grabbing a handful of Shannon's hair and dragging his head back to look up at his captor. “You think you know? You know _ nothing.” _

The restraint on Shannon's wrist gave after a few rough twists of his wrist. His fist connected with the younger man's jaw, sending him stumbling back in surprise. Shannon followed it up by grabbing the chair he had been tied to -was still tied to by one wrist- standing and swinging it in one smooth motion to splinter into pieces against his head and shoulders. “You're right.” the rope slid free of the now ruined chair as Shannon took a step toward the dazed man on the ground. “I don't know what it's like to see my parent killed.” his hold on the broken leg didn't lessen as he advanced. “What I do know. Is what you did to me. And that's not something I can forgive.” A white knuckled hold led into a vicious swing as wood connected with flesh again. A sickening crack echoing through the room.

 

_ The phone rang. Once... twice... “H'lo?” Jared's voice was husky as he answered. He'd finally passed out, exhaustion finally getting the better of him. There was silence on the other end of the line. “Hello?” he asked again, beginning to get mildly irritated now. _

“ _Jay?” The voice on the other end... Could it be? “Jay I'm coming home.”_

 

_ _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well it's certainly been a wild ride hasn't it? What'd you guys think?


End file.
